


Paid Back in Blood

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Badass Rhys, Blood and Injury, Fist Fights, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-27 00:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Jack drags Rhys to an underground, alpha-dominated fighting ring deep within Helios. However, once he jumps into the fray, Jack realizes he might've bitten off a little more than he could chew.Fortunately, Rhys is there to give him a hand—or rather, afist.





	Paid Back in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Just something done for an old hurt/comfort prompt! Enjoy.

Jack had been hearing rumors about the alpha fighting ring deep within Helios for awhile now, but had largely dismissed them as that—just rumors.

But then he’d caught Rhys’ little musclebound friend running his mouth off about it one day when he’d snuck up on the pair’s conversation, and even with instinctive lip-lock Vaughn got whenever the intimidating alpha came around, he still caught enough verification to get his interest piqued. The beta hadn’t been very forthcoming with any more info, quickly excusing himself from Jack’s presence—thankfully, however, Rhys could be coaxed far more easily, and by the time they started heading home themselves, Jack had the location and time of the fighting ring squeezed out of his lover.  

Jack thought it might be a lark to tussle with the wannabe tough-guys a place like this would inevitably draw for a bit. Figured it’d be a bit of a show, for the CEO of Hyperion himself to roll up and take on a couple challengers. Rhys seemed a little reluctant, annoyed he’d let Jack wring the information out of him, but when the alpha teasingly offered to buy him ice cream afterwards for being such a good sport, it buttered him up enough to convince him to tag along.

The fighting ring sat hidden in a grimier part of Helios, far away from the remodeled splendor of the Hub, as well as the bulk of the apartment blocks and offices. The hallways he and Rhys followed grew dimmer and grimier the farther they walked, with only the occasional cleaning roomba attempting to tidy up the musty floors. They even found streaks of graffiti on the walls, both remnants from the Lost Legion occupation and fresher, more juvenile messages criss-crossed over the stained steel.

Rhys followed close behind him, occasionally grasping at Jack’s arm and swearing at the random, metallic noises echoing through the halls.

“Jack…this is  _creepy_ ,” Rhys grumbled as he pressed himself close to the CEO’s side. “That ice cream better be  _amazing_.”

“Hush, kiddo, I told you already I’m gonna make it up to you,” Jack reassured as the rounded a corner, both quickly detecting loud, rhythmic sounds from further down the dingy hallway. Rhys grumbled in soft discontent, but didn’t dig his heels in nor insist they turn around and head home, continuing to follow Jack towards the source of the noise.

It didn’t take too long to find. Two more corners and a creaky, half-broken automatic door later and he and Rhys were greeted by the sight of a large, already raucous looking crowd. Their nostrils both flared at once, quickly picking up on the heavy, musky odor of alphas that smelled soaked into everything. The crowd clustered in some vague semblance of a line outside what must have been an old office at one point, by jammed open glass doors and the busted ID placard sparking besides it. Jack felt Rhys press closer to his side, an affronted hiss building under his breath as he eyed the gathered alphas suspiciously.

“If any of them touch me, you’re going to have to kill them,” Rhys muttered as he followed along Jack, the pair walking right up to the double doors past the line. Jack’s presence, predictably, didn’t go unnoticed, as heads turned and eyes widened all along the group of alphas as they passed.

“Holy shit—“

“—it’s  _him—“_

_“_ —he’s really here!—“

Jack’s ego puffed bigger and bigger at the chorus of whispers as he strode right up to the two, beefy alphas in unbuttoned dress shirts that passed for security. They let him in without question, and as Jack passed on through the entrance to the ring he could hear them gossiping in low voices, like awestruck teenagers.

Shock and excitement rippled through the crowd as soon as Jack entered the huge, dingy room proper, all gathered quickly bursting into raucous, unhinged cheering when the CEO roared and threw his metaphorical hat into the ring, swaggering about as the organizers scrambled to find him an acceptable challenger.

Scars of old motivational posters on the walls and abandoned, half-broken cubicle walls—some of which had even been ripped off the carpet and shoved away from the crowd—confirmed Jack’s earlier hunch regarding the room’s origin. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember which department used to occupy this area of Helios, but the idea that an old button-down cubicle farm had been infested with such a dingy, violent spectacle got him a little giddy.

Soon enough Jack was ushered away from Rhys and into the ring, where he stripped himself of his more restricting garments, draping his jacket, vest, and undershirt on the battered metal barrier separating the arena from the audience.

Jack felt deep in his element. Roaring crowds, all eyes watching him, voices chanting his name in between calls for blood. His heart raced, leaping against his sternum and itching for the fight. He jumped about the perimeter of the ring, occasionally slapping high-fives or bumping knuckles with the spectators as he waited for his opponent to step into the fray.

Jack had left Rhys with his gun, not fully trusting the hoards of sweaty, hormone-flush alphas, even with his presence warding most of them away from messing with his mate. He could see Rhys awkwardly fidgeting the handle of the gun sticking out of the chest holster, his expression alternating between a disapproving frown and the undeniable excitement brimming just below the surface. After another pre-victory lap, Jack finally bounded over to where Rhys had come to lean up against the railing, fingers drumming up against the dented metal.

“How about a kiss for good luck, sugar?” Jack leaned up and over the barrier, cheeky grin splashed across his face. Rhys rolled his eyes, but smiled and planted a kiss right on his alpha’s lips anyway.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

A voice suddenly crackled over the transformed office’s old loudspeaker, static hissing on each consonant as it announced Jack’s presence—little redundant, the alpha thought, but whatever—as well as the name and title of his challenger. Jack’s eyebrows raised up in interest as one alpha parted off from the crowd clustering up against the barrier, vaulting up and over the boundary and landing with a resounding  _thump_  in the ring.

He looked like nothing special when compared to the rest of the masses, generically muscles in the arms and chest, with his hexagon-patterned jacket slung all casual over his shoulder, like he fancied himself some kind of old-fashioned street tough. The only thing distinct about him was the angled, freshly shaved cut of his facial hair that spiked up along his jawline that didn’t add much to the intimidation factor, in Jack’s opinion.

The CEO grinned wildly and he sized the other man up proper, hands on his hips as he swaggered forward. He sniffed the air, trying to get a decent read on the alpha, but the hundreds of odors clustered around the ring smothered his senses. The guy had to be a  _little_  bit scared though, right? Staring down Handsome Jack, of all people? He figured a  _little_  pants-pissing would be in order.

Maybe he needed to turn it up a notch.

“Well well well, this is it?” Jack boasted, more to the crowd than his challenger. “This is the son of a taint who decided to challenge Handsome Jack himself? Gotta say, I admire your balls, kiddo. It’ll be fun to rip ‘em off your carcass.” The crowd roared its approval as Jack cracked his knuckles, smile wide and brutal as he circled his opponent. To his slight surprise, the other alpha didn’t look all that phased as the corner of his mouth quirked up in a confident smirk.

“You going to keep that mask on the entire fight, old man?” His adversary growled, tossing the coat off his shoulder and onto the railing behind him. “Probably makes it a little hard to see properly…sure those eyes aren’t painted on?”

_Old_? Now that was something that got Jack’s blood simmering. Rhys could get away with something like that, poking fun at his age, since he knew the omega didn’t mean it. But this little prick?  _Oh_ , now he was going down.

“You think this is a handicap or something, buddy?” Jack laughed away his anger, pointing at the mask. “Trust me, keeping this on won’t screw with my eyesight at all—in any case, even the blind could see you’re a blowhard little  _bitch_.”

Delighted howls vibrated through the crowd, and Jack could see his opponent’s cheeks redden slightly. He quickly hid part of his face—including that awful beard—behind a pair of clenched knuckles, lips tight and apparently unwilling to talk any more shit.

Fine by Jack, honestly. The point here, really, was to speak with their  _fists_.

The flickering, green-white lights above cast a grimy sheen on the already sweating skin of both Jack and his foe. The air was warm, humid from the hundred panting, spit flecked mouths gathered around the ring, fanatically thirsty for blood. A primeval fervor thrummed through the air like a constant deep bass, shaking through Jack’s muscles and squeezing adrenaline through his veins. His nostrils flared, the scent of alpha hormones the strongest here in the ring, the heart of the violence —the cacophony of senses driving him mad and pumping him up to fight, to draw blood.

Jack rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows before he fell into a ready stance, fists clenched and guarded in front of his body. He shifted his weight steadily from foot to foot, rocking back and forth in place as he waited for the buzzer to sound.

Briefly, Jack caught where Rhys was standing  out of the corner of his eye. He turned to wink and sent a short, reassuring finger-gun straight at his mate’s engrossed pout, a split second before the raspy buzzer rang out across the arena.

His opponent’s sudden rush of speed nearly caught Jack off guard—fortunately, he quickly sidestepped the rushing alpha, giving him a wide berth as he skidded to a halt right in front of the metal barrier. Jack again danced out of reach when the alpha surged after him with two wide, swinging blows, the momentum leaving him wide open for Jack to charge in and sink a fist right into his opponent’s abdomen.

It didn’t wind him quite the way Jack wanted, but the punch distracted his opponent enough for Jack to catch a glancing blow against his cheek before the other alpha’s fist socked into Jack’s shoulder, driving the older alpha away.  

His arm trembled slightly from the blow, pain ringing down to his elbow. Jack shook out his hand, leaping back to put some space between the two of them. A moment’s recovery was all Jack needed, and as his adversary lunged after him he sprung ready to meet the oncoming assault.

Jack could tell already that the guy had been hoping to overwhelm him with pure brute strength straight off the bat, but the older man’s unexpected speed and agility had cut that strategy off at the head. Not that Jack had ever thought he could  _possibly_  lose this fight, but now he felt even more confident than he had beforehand. One-hundred percent assured he could wipe the floor with this guy as soon as he either tired him out or frustrated him into making a key mistake.

Jack laughed as he continued dodging and deflecting the guy’s punches, feet dancing on the floor of the ring. He nimbly hopped on the clean patches in between fresh and old blood alike. Jack felt alive, far more fleet and forceful than any other alpha his age could claim to be. And when he landed and clawing punch against his younger opponent, it only served to inflate his throbbing ego further. Blood surged through his veins like fire, and he couldn’t help but laugh triumphantly when his knuckles connected once against with his adversary’s chin with an audible  _crack_ of teeth.

“Give up yet, kiddo?” Jack gave the other alpha a scant moment to recover from the blow—though really, it was more so he could have a chance to properly taunt his foe. That was part the fun, anyway, make the guy  _really_ feel the shame of his oncoming loss.

Unfortunately, the guy remained annoyingly tacit, merely panting a couple of times and wiping blood away from his lips as he shot an angry glare in Jack’s direction. The CEO smiled, holding out his arms in a mocking shrug, trivializing his enemy’s intensity.

“What, don’t wanna pipe up? Come on! Are you an alpha, or just a kicked puppy?” The crowd’s laughter echoed triumphantly in his ears, though he  _thought_  he heard a couple errant voices calling for his ass to be kicked. He narrowed his eyes and glanced about, making a mental note to do a little  _purging_  of the audience after the fight. Just to remind those dissidents just exactly  _who_  he was, if they’d been dumb enough to forget.

But that would have to wait ’til after—his opponent was charging again, emboldened by a second wind as he knocked a flurry of punches about. Jack’s forearms rang with the blows as he tried to block them, one even catching the clip of his mask as he just barely dodged his head. Flecks of red flew through the air, his adversary’s knuckles sliced open by the edge of his clasp, but he didn’t seem to care as he continued pummeling Jack’s guard.

Distracted by his adversary’s sudden resurged strength as he was, Jack failed to notice the large puddle of fresh blood—presumably from one of tonight’s previous fights—until his sneakers were already sliding through it.

He managed to catch himself before he slipped and fell completely, but it gave his foe an opportunity to strike him off guard. Jack grunted as a hand lunged forward grabbed the front of his sweater, yanking the collar sharply against his neck as it pulled him forward, right into a cruising fist.

Bright colors burst in Jack’s vision as something in his face snapped. He suddenly felt weightless, as if his soul had been knocked right out of his body by the blow and try as he might, he couldn’t claw his way back in time before his sight went completely black, and he fainted dead away on the ring’s stained floor.

* * *

The sounds of the world around Jack rushed in long before his sight returned. Along with the pain—the pain was bad enough to nearly knock him out again, but then he caught a whiff of Rhys’ scent through the blood and sweat of the ring and his eyes flew open, suddenly concerned for his mate’s welfare.

“Rhys— _ow_ —“ Jack swore at the sudden lancing pain in his head, his vision blurring all dizzy as he swayed. He fell back, only to be caught by a warm hand that then  _carefully_  laid him back against the floor.

“Shhh shh shh,  _easy_.” His omega’s soothing voice, the one he used when Jack had had a long day or a nightmare, rolled over him, easing the throbbing pain just a tad. After a moment’s recovery, he tried opening his eyes again, keeping them to slits just so he could see Rhys’ face above his own.

Jack had already sensed his mate’s worry through his bond, so the concern in his eyes and pouting lips surprised him little. Yet with his fuzzy, fractured mind, it was hard to put two and two together as to  _why_  Rhys was so upset. Jack squinted in thought.

He…he remembered the fight, the fact that he was winning up until the point where he slipped and…

Pain, blood, then nothing. Jack hissed at the sting of the memory, as well as the throbbing in his head and face. He tried to relax in Rhy’s hold as he pried his eyes open wider, taking in his mate’s face further. As soon as the fuzziness started to dissipate towards the periphery of his vision, he noted something glistening and red near Rhys’ port.

“You’re…you’re bleeding.” Despite the fact that he was in  _no_  position to fight any longer, Jack felt a surge of rage at the cut on his omega’s temple. Rhys touched his fingers to the blood leaking from the cut, before snorting and waving his hand dismissively.

“That’s nothing. You should see the other guy.”

“Other guy?”

Jack raised his head as best as he could without risking further pain. From across the dingy ring, he could see two other alphas dragging Jack’s former opponent by the arms. With his blurry vision he couldn’t tell if the guy was still moving or not, but the copious amount of blood staining down his shirt told him all he really needed to know.

“Holy crap…”

Rhys smirked proudly at the awe in Jack’s voice.

“Did you think I was just going to let you forfeit because you got knocked out cold?” The omega’s cybernetic fingers, stained and tacky with drying blood, stroked Jack’s hair back off of his forehead. “You dragged me all the way here. There was no way you were losing. Not on my watch.”

A dumb smile spread across Jack’s lips as he looked up at his mate with a dreamy, glassy-eyed glance.

“Baby….if I didn’t have a concussion right now…this would make me  _super_  horny.”

Rhys answered him with the typical, resigned  _sigh_  Jack had long gotten used to, but the omega’s thrill and pride from his victory shone through nonetheless as he leaned down and brushed his lips against Jack’s uninjured cheek.

“Save it for after we get you home and patched up, handsome.”


End file.
